


you were just dancing on your  own

by fineosaur



Series: count your blessings, my love. [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, the best summary of this fic would be to listen to the song 'waging a war' by matthew and the atlas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineosaur/pseuds/fineosaur
Summary: Arya wakes up in her car and decides to turn to the one person who brings her comfort.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: count your blessings, my love. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842127
Comments: 21
Kudos: 102





	you were just dancing on your  own

**Author's Note:**

> fic and title inspo: waging a war - matthew and the atlas

-

_is it a handful of dust or another broken jaw?_

_in a life untold, never to unfold_   
_you were just dancing on your own, i don't know why_   
_you were just dancing_

_you're waging a war just like when we were kids_   
_you were down on the floor, you were taller than you were before_   
_and this feels the same every time you come around_   
_this feels the same_

_-_

_matthew and the atlas, waging a war_

-

It’s still dark when Arya wakes up in her car; windshield covered in a think layer sleet. Her teeth chatter as she pulls her jumper tighter around herself, yellow haze in her eyes from the streetlights. 

She’s in the passenger seat of her car, seat pushed back the most it can go. Her heater doesn’t work, no matter how much she bruises her knuckles against the vents. 

Sitting back in frustration, unable to will her burning eyes asleep once more, she thinks. The thoughts that never seem to leave her mind. She’s cold but she only thinks of how much she’s spiralling and can’t seem to stop it. 

No one knows she’s back in Winterfell. but it’s not like there’s anyone to tell. Most of her family is gone, if not all. 

Most days she dares not to think of them, but their faces are inevitably conjured up behind her grey eyes, opened or closed, her eyes always see them. They linger around her like ghosts, settling in her heart and making each beat hurt. 

Arya moves back into the driver’s seat, turning on the ignition, lowering the handbrake, not even caring that her vision is marred by tears and the ice that settled on her car. 

Her fingers are numb against the steering wheel, it hurts to change the gear shift when she drives out onto empty roads. 

She somehow arrives in one piece at her destination. more so that it’s a few steps away if she only musters up the courage to walk to the door. it would mean braving the cold night air but the cold was in her blood, no matter how cold the tears dried against her face, no matter how much her body shook with it. 

It’s colder outside than she expects it to be. The lights are all out in the one-story house in front of her, only things lighting her path are the distant streetlights and the moon’s soft kiss. 

She considers turning back after she’s knocked for the first time, even if it hadn’t been more than 30 seconds after her numb fingers grazed the iron knocker. 

The lights come on suddenly. Arya sees it through the small glass frame upon the wooden door. 

When the door opens it’s the crystal eyes that meet hers which bring her warmth. 

He’s worried. She can tell. But he asks no questions, only staring at her with widened eyes. 

She says nothing when she throws herself into his arms, tightly wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his chest against her wind bitten face. 

What Arya appreciates is his silence. There’s comfort in the way he chooses against asking questions she doesn’t know the answer to. 

She pulls away, only to have his hand trail down her face softly pushing her hair back behind her ear. He kisses the top of her head, lingering just long enough for her to feel it go through her entire body. 

“You’re cold,” he tells her, a smile grazes his lips but she can see in his face that he doesn’t sleep well either. 

“Not anymore.”

He pulls her into his room, setting clothes on the bed before leaving the room. 

She’s grateful for him. _For Gendry_. The one person she hasn’t lost yet. that thought often eats at her, but she knows she’s too far gone to consider what it would be like if she lost him too. 

When she finds him again, he’s in the kitchen and the sound of the kettle fills the house. It’s suddenly in her body, the slow cracks she feels as if she’s coming back to life. Though this is nothing like a play, she wonders if she can slowly come back into herself, her own spin of Hermione’s resurrection. 

“Gendry,” she calls out softly, watching him turn to her. 

Arya knows there’s a long way to go. But for tonight maybe she can feel okay, or some semblance of it. 

“Thank you,” Arya says, attempting a smile. 

“No,” Gendry counters, taking her in his arms once more. “I’m here for you, I’ve always said and I’ve always meant it.”

He doesn’t mention that she left just after he had confessed his feelings to her. She’s glad for it. 

But she’s not leaving again, she’s decided. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading,  
> comments and kudos are much appreciated  
> lots of love,  
> [fineosaur](https://fineosaur-writes.tumblr.com)  
> (come say hi!)


End file.
